Then might I rest;
I cannot govern her, nor can I master
         The heart within my breast.

I cast myself upon the ground in anguish
         Wounded and sore,
Yet longed to have two hearts that she might pierce them,
         That I might suffer more.

Utterly from her heart hath she erased me,
         No marks remain,
So there shall be no grave from which my ashes
         May greet her steps again.

O cruel One, when once your glances smote me,
         Why turn your head?
It were more merciful to let their arrows
         Pierce me and strike me dead.

No tomb, Amir, could give my dust oblivion,
         No rest was there:
And when they told her I had died of sorrow,
         She did not know—nor care.

IV.

This Life is less than shadows; if thou yearn
         To know and find the God thou worshippest,
From all the varying shows of being turn
         To that true Life which is unmanifest.

Beware, O travellers, dangerous is Life's Way
         With lures that call, illusion that deceives,
For set to snare the voyagers that stray
         Are fortresses of robbers, lairs of thieves.

The seer's eyes look on the cup of wine
         And say—We need no more thy drunkenness;
An exaltation that is more divine,
         Another inspiration, we possess.

O praise not peacock youth; it flits away
         And leaves us but the ashes of regret,
A disappointed heart, a memory,
         An empty foolish pride that lingers yet.

Upon the path, Amir, we journey far,
         Weary the road where mankind wandereth;
O tell me, does it lead through Life's bazar,
         Or is it the dread gate and house of Death?

V.

Here can my heart no longer rest;
         It tells my happy destiny,
Towards Medina lies my quest,
         The Holy Prophet summons me.

I should not marvel if for flight
         Upon my shoulders wings should start,
My body is so gay and light
         With this new gladness in my heart.

My weary patience nears its end;
         Unresting heart, that yearns and loves,
Convey me far to meet my friend
         Within Medina's garden groves.

My spirit shall not faint nor tire,
         Although by many tender bands
My country holds me, I desire
         The journey through the desert sands.

By day and night forever now
         I burn in Love's hot furnace breath,
Although there gather on my brow
         The cold and heavy sweats of death.

And ever in my home in Hind
         At dawn's first light, at evenfall,
I hear upon the desert wind
         The Prophet of Arabia call.

VI.

The light is in mine eyes,
Within my heart I feel Thy joy arise,
From gate to inmost shrine
This palace of my soul is utterly Thine.

O longing seeking eyes,
He comes to you in many a varied guise,
If Him you cannot find
The shame be yours, O eyes that are so blind.

I as His mirror glow
Bearing His image in my heart, and know
That glowing clear in His
The image of my heart reflected is.

O drink the Wine of Love,
And in the Assembly